steady and forceful, was
very much in love with this girl who looked down into his face with such
an air of sweet confidence and companionship. And Helen, as she turned
from the scene that so interested her, to greet her husband's friends,
to ask him some question, or to answer some laughing remark, could not
hide the love light in her soft brown eyes. One could not fail to see
that her woman heart was glad--glad and proud that this stalwart,
broad-shouldered leader of men had chosen her for his mate.

"But, Stan," she said, with a pretty air of disappointment, "I thought
it was all going to be so different. Why, except for the mountains, and
those poor Indians over there, this might all be in some little town
back home. I thought there would be cowboys riding about everywhere,
with long hair and big hats, and guns and things."

Stanford and his friends who were standing near laughed.

"I fear, Mrs. Manning," remarked Mr. Richards, one of Prescott's bank
presidents, "that Stanford has been telling you wild west stories. The
West moves as well as the East, you know. We are becoming civilized."

"Indeed you are, Mr. Richards," Helen returned. "And I don't think I
like it a bit. It's not fair to your poor eastern sight-seers, like
myself."

"If you are really so anxious to see a sure enough cowboy, look over
there," said Stanford, and pointed across the street.

"Where?" demanded Helen eagerly.

"There," smiled Stanford, "the dark-faced chap near that automobile
standing by the curb; the machine with the pretty girl at the wheel.
See! he is stopping to talk with the girl."

"What! That nice looking man, dressed just like thousands of men that we
might see any day on the streets of Cleveland?" cried Helen.

"Exactly," chuckled her husband, while the others laughed at her
incredulous surprise. "But, just the same, that's Phil Acton; 'Wild
Horse Phil,' if you please. He is the cowboy foreman of the
Cross-Triangle Ranch, and won the championship in the bronco riding last
year."

"I don't believe it--you are making fun of me, Stanford Manning."

Then, before he could answer, she cried, with quick excitement, "But,
Stan, look! Look at the girl in the automobile! She looks like--it is,
Stan, it is!" And to the amazement of her husband and her friends Mrs.
Manning sprang to her feet and, waving her handkerchief, called, "Kitty!
Oh, Kitty--Kitty Reid!"

As her clear call rang out, many people turned to look, and then